


attire & mixtapes

by orphan_account



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: Clothing Kink, Falling In Love, M/M, PDA, Some Great Reward/Black Celebration era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:18:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: falling in love and all that





	1. dangerous

"I cannot STAND the way you  _tease!"_ Rang the voice of Soft Cell's vocalist from the speakers on Martin'a cassette player. He was touching up the last bit of his makeup before going out to the "bar" (more like a glorified trashcan with booze) with the rest of the band. At this point, he believed himself to be above places like this, but the owner said free drinks if they just showed up. And Martin cannot resist free drinks. There was a chill in the fall air outside but that didn't stop him from wearing a black leather dress with slits down the side, most of his legs only covered by stockings. While the rest of them put on light coats and thicker shirts, it wouldn't truly be a Martin Gore outing without a little bit of skin showing. By a little bit, he means a lot. Just the last blot of setting powder was hitting his cheek when Dave walked in, telling him to hurry up.

"I am hurrying! You can't rush beauty. I'm done anyway."

"Shouldn't you.." Dave looked down at Martin's nearly bare legs. "Wear something warmer? It's cold." He didn't say that he thought Martin had really nice legs.

"When have I ever been known for covering up?"

"True. Let's go."

He shut off the cassette player, ejected the tape, and shoved it in a desk drawer in the hotel room. 

Post-taxi-dropping-them-off, the four stood in front of "The Prickly Pint".

"Charming." Fletch sneered.

The place looked of an abandoned warehouse, smelled of stale beer, and sounded like a cacophony of stupid arguments. Any windows were adorned in cheesy neon signs, posters of scantily clad women, or wood boards. They all said without speaking that it looked as hospitable and welcoming as an underground catacomb, excluding Alan. He really just didn't give a damn. Inside had the same atmosphere, but they decided to make the best of it. Of course, girls drew to them within seconds, but Fletch and Alan were the only two who seem interested. 

"So...what are those two doing over there?" A blond girl asked, twirling Alan's hair with one hand, and pointing at Dave and Martin sitting at the bar with the other.

"Like I know. Just wait a minute, Mart will probably start dancing on a table." 

"Call them over here. I'd like to get between you and brunette." She whispered in his ear. 

"Dave! Get your ass over here!" Alan shouted over at him.

Dave couldn't hear him over the obnoxious sax solo on whatever dumb song was playing. Not like he was paying attention to anything but Martin. His black painted nails were wrapped around a martini glass like he needed liquor to live, and he was already drunk on the fruity alcoholic nightmares he had the bartender construct. Dave couldn't stop thinking about his dress...

"DAVE!"

He snapped out of it. "What?"

"Come over here!"

At the beckoning of Alan he sat on the other side of the girl, and pretended to seem interested. She eventually caught on and headed to the back store room with Alan without him. Martin came over to the couch Dave was still sitting on, bearing another fruit flavored mess and a beer. 

"Hhey...wanna see somethem?" Martin slurred when he fell on the couch beside Dave. 

"If it's something that's going to get us kicked out of another bar, then no."

"Aww, I thouwt you LIKED my tablesh dancing!" 

"Let's get you out of here."

While Alan and Fletch were attending to their own separate...business (Alan still in the back room, Fletch in his hotel room), Dave and Martin sat in a taxi back to the hotel. Martin was wasted, laying his head on Dave's shoulder while dozing off. He almost liked having Martin on him like that, but he tried to purge that from his mind as quickly as possible. He didn't know what was wrong with him, thinking like that. When he got to that train of thought, the taxi arrived at their destination. Dave carried Martin to their room, and dropped him on the double bed. He dug through drawers trying to find makeup remover (Martin had told him sleeping with it on was bad for the skin) to clean him up. In one of the drawers lied an unmarked cassette, halfway through. Obviously, it wasn't blank, so it was curious. Mentally, he made a note to come back to it later. For now, he needed to clean up the mess Martin made of his face.

In the morning, Dave woke up before Martin, around nine. He made coffee for the both of them, since Martin liked his cold, and decided to look over the cassette again. Of course, Martin woke up as soon as he put his hand on the black plastic. 

"What're you doing?" Martin said, with his floof a mess on his head, and dress half off one shoulder. 

"Nothing. I made you coffee."

Curiosity did kill the cat, Dave thought.

 

 

In a few hours, Martin was already over his hangover, and the two of them sat in the hotel room's TV corner. Neither of them said much while watching American Werewolf in London for about the thousandth time, but he could tell something was off with Dave.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." SHIT.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Dave. I can tell when something's up with you. So tell me."

Well, what's the harm in asking? "What's on that cassette of yours?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Martin giggled, and went to the fridge to get himself a soda. He still had his dress on, and Dave caught himself staring again. 

"I'm gonna go ahead and start packing up most of our stuff. We're heading out tomorrow morning, remember?" He said, and silently put the cassette in on the lowest, almost nonexistent volume. He wanted to start it over. 

By the end of the film, most everything had been packed up and cleaned, and Martin sat back down next to Dave. 

"I'm bored."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

Martin inched a bit closer, and set his head on Dave's shoulder like the night before. They heard the click of the end of the cassette, but Martin ignored it and moved his head from Dave's shoulder to his lap. Dave started to feel flustered, and Martin could tell without looking at his face. He hoped by now Dave could take the damn hint and screw him but he realized it might take less subtlety. 

"Do you like me, Dave?"

"Of course I do, we're in a fucking band together!"

"Not like that. Like...that girlfriend you had a while ago, whatever her name was. That kind of like."

"I...uh..."

"Dave, do you think I'm truly that unobservant and don't notice you staring at my ass every time I wear this dress, and really, all the time for that matter?"

Dave sat silent, nervous now that he knew that Martin knew. He had no idea that it was that obvious.

"Well, if you want to fuck me Dave, tell me."

He stared at the ceiling, wating for his response. More time passed.

"Oh, for God's sake Dave, will you give me an answer?"

He answered by picking Martin up and tossing him on the room's bed like he had done the night before, and hovering over him, like he was going in to kiss him.

"Go start the cassette." Martin said, smiling and glad he got his answer. 

Dave walked over to the player while unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his belt. His head was yelling "ARE YOU REALLY DOING THIS? THE BAND, YOU MORON, THE BAND!" but he couldn't care less. When he came back over, Martin finished the undressing, and went to unzip the back of his dress.

"Don't!"

Martin laughed. "I knew you had a thing for this dress!" 

"Just stop talking."

"Mmhmm."

 


	2. tē amō

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dave is a kinky fucker too

"Can you uncuff me now?" Martin asked, looking at Dave, who lied next to him breathing heavy and with ecstasy flowing from his expression. 

"Shit, yeah. Sorry."

He rubbed the skin of his wrists; feeling his climax from a minute ago again in his mind. When he lay down on his back, hands resting on his chest, he thought to take his dress off, but he was just too tired and lazy. He had to give it to Dave, keeping the damn tight thing on made things more difficult but if that's what does it for him, who is Martin to question? The writer of Master and Servant can't say much about other people's fetishes. Dave got up to get a drink, slowly and stumbling. His knees were still a little weak and his mind still not believing what had just happened. Of course, he's glad it did happen, he just couldn't believe it.

The b side of the cassette clicked off. 

"So that's what that tape was for?" Dave said, as he sat back on the bed, holding a cup of water or white wine (Martin couldn't tell). 

"I mean, it's really just sort of a lot of songs I like, which just happen to have a sexual sort of feeling."

"'Cause you're a huge pervert?"

"Yep. You nailed it. And me." He teased back at Dave. 

Both of them said silently that this wouldn't make things weird with the band. They sealed that notion with a kiss and falling alseep on each other.

In the morning, Martin was the first to wake up. He changed (still in the dress from the night before) and put up the last of the things they didn't pack before. He watched the sun float above the skyline with a cup of coffee in hand on the hotel room's window seat. Eyes fell to the ground below him, seeing the wind blow fallen leaves; sweeping them into dances. It was a cosy feeling, and it made him feel sappy. He wanted to sit around and watch a romantic comedy like a cheesy in love stereotype - he was becoming one. His mind wandered to Dave again, and as he ran his free hand on the fabric of the seat he thought of the patterns he traced down his back with his fingertips. Fluttery feelings glided through him. He sighed. 

Dave, just woken up and still not wearing any clothes, came up behind Martin to put his hand on his shoulder.

"Good morning."

He kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Then Martin realized he was in love. 


	3. let's go dancing (on the backs of the bruised)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so you know the last chapter is going to be much longer than these past two!!!

Club nights became different. If they could go somewhere crowded without being noticed (especially difficult with Martin's hair and style of dress) it would be less about partying, more Dave and Martin grinding over each other while Bowie songs played and Alan and Fletch sat drinking beers. They were practically inseparable in every outing, every concert, every single thing they did. Preforming  _Somebody_  always resulted in glances at each other while Martin sang, occasionally fumbling on the words and saying "he", not the recorded "she". Their new form of relationship changed the group - for them, better - for the other two, worse. This is something Alan discussed with Fletch.

"You get what I mean? I have no problem with Martin and Dave being into guys, I actually expected Martin to be, but it's sort of causing problems." Alan said, over the club's one thousandth repeat of  _Adolescent Sex_ by Japan. 

"I get what you mean, yeah. It's making things, well, awkward." Fletch looked down at his drink as he spoke. It was a banana crème liquor nightmare.

Both of them looked to the floor, where Martin was licking Dave's neck and holding his hands around his waist while they danced. They were both obviously very drunk, tripping over their own feet and colliding into each other. Besides each other, their favorite thing to do had recently been drinking. Not as much of their time was spent in the studio as the package store and bars, as well as anywhere they could be without interruption from the rest of the band. Alan secretly envied how much fun they were having, and it made him almost resent them for it. 

"Yeah, it really is. We need to make them break up." Alan said with anger.

"Whoa, break up? I've heard some of the things Martin says, and he's absolutely in love, mate. Like, out of his mind in love. Making them break up is a bit much, maybe just ask them to....tone it down a bit?" Fletch was shocked at the strength of Alan's idea.

But he replied to Fletch with even more conviction. "I don't really care how in love he is! Those two are causing problems for us!"

Fletch put a hand to Alan's shoulder.

"Listen, that really isn't necessary. I'll try and catch 'em sober and talk to them, alright? You're being real rash about this."

Alan shoved Fletch's hand off him and stormed off into the crowd, leaving Fletch alone at his table.

 

".......We're not saying you need to break up, not at all, just...maybe not...be so constantly affectionate. And cut back on the drinking a little." Fletch explained in a diner to Dave and Martin on the other side of a booth. He held his hands together nervously awaiting a response. 

"Alright, if you really think we need to." Dave told him.

"Thanks, Dave."

 

That night, while still trying to uphold their promise, the two skipped a concert after party, for the sake of the affection not being as public. They returned to a hotel room, and immedietly after coming in the door, it was locked and Martin was pushed against it.

"Already, Dave?" Martin asked, lowering his eyes and running his hands against the base of Dave's neck.


	4. noster amor omnia vincit sed tu me vinceret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the latin in the title is "our love conquers all, but you conquer me." ;)

Martin could not deny in the slightest that he was in love. It was in his eyes, his words, his smallest mannerism. Consuming him, piece by piece until he became absolutely enamored with every part of Dave. Every night they slept together became more dreamlike, making him a vessel of Venus Herself. Easily entertained by the fluttering of Dave's eyes in his sleep, the rhythm of his heart in his chest, and the movements of his mouth in words and song, he was seeking nothing else. Pauses in time occurred, where it seemed so slow and in detail, when hours had passed of just staring and admiring. When they kissed to  _Sweet Dreams_ on the radio in the back of taxis he thought "Sweet dreams really are made of this." 

On set, filming for  _Stripped_ , the two were still inseparable. Every spare moment spent off to the side, catching time to kiss and drink the sight of each other in. 

"We have time, you know Fletch takes forever to eat lunch." Dave said, pulling Martin off to a dressing room during midday. He adored the sight of his Mart in leather, following behind him. As the door shut behind them in the compact room, they both tore their jackets off in a frenzy, desperate for the other. Despite the room being dimly lit with poor lighting and having no comfortable place to lay, they both supposed good enough. Snaking his hands up Martin's shirt, Dave said,

"You look so hot beating the shit out of that car." Martin's shirt came off.

"Dave, that's one of the strangest things anyone has ever said to me." Dave's did too.

"Well, both of us are pretty strange." Dave said into the side of Martin's neck.

"Strange love." 

 

At dinner after filming, the group found themselves at a nicer restaurant than they would usually bother with, as it would be seen as uncouth to show up in worn leather jackets and scuffed boots. But Fletch begged to eat somewhere with higher quality food than McDonalds and businesses with food so awful one would suspect it's a drug front, so they obliged. The restaurant, bearing an unpronounceable French name, felt larger than a department store with all of its open space, surplus amounts of tables, and white walls, giving the illusion of more room. Everything was adorned with gold accenting, from the pens waiters carried to the candelabra on the tables. It was much more luxe than the band usually had time for on the road, making them feel a little out of place. Alan, despite the restaurant having an almost enforced dress code, decided to wear a Human Leauge t-shirt with jeans and a leather jacket, while the rest of them were in nice sweaters, button down shirts, or in Martin's case, a dress that could have been sported by Marilyn Monroe. Him and Dave held hands in the lobby while they waited to be seated, and it made Martin's heart race. They had been together for months, yet Dave's touch still filled him with excitement. 

"Where do you want to go after this?" Dave whispered into Martin's ear, while taking another hand and running it through his floof. 

"I..uh...mmm...there's a movie I want to see, but it's sorta gross. It's a Cronenberg." He blushed and tried not to stutter as Dave pushed his fingers through his hair.

"I was thinking something a little more romantic than Cronenberg, myself." He giggled, brushing his nose on Martin's neck.

"Party of four."

 

"So I told her that if she didn't stop drinking the ketchup she was going to vomit, but she kept drinking it! Isn't that crazy?" Fletch laughed at his own story.

Alan rolled his eyes and stirred the top of his drink with his finger, while Dave and Martin sat in awkward silence. Then their food arrived and they were saved from the unfortunate lack of comedic skill from Fletch. Dave nudged Martin before they ate, and said quietly to him, 

"Follow me when you're done."

After eating, Dave got up and went to the bathroom, and as he stood, he ran a finger across the back of Martin's shoulders. The bathroom in the restaurant was full of marble and gold everything, and on a nine-pm on a Tuesday, was completely empty. Echos swirled from the smallest of sounds, from breath to shoes on tile, to the small sound of fabric scratching from touching thighs when one walks. It was a gorgeous place to be, but he lost his train of thought about the room when Martin walked in. Without saying anything, he grabbed Martin's hand, pulled him to the largest stall, and set the lock in place. In a fluid motion he pushed him against the cold wall, and pinned his hands above his head. He kissed down his neck and around the neckline of the dress, making Martin push against him, with the heel of his shoes clacking against the tile and him letting out a small groan. 

"I love that dress on you, and I'm going to love it off of you more."

 

In a hotel not too far from the restaurant, Martin sat on a balcony seat with a notebook, a pen, and a tiny little synth. 

"But when you think I've had enough from your sea of love, I'll take more than another river full. I'll make your heart smile."

Dave hummed a tune as he passed through the room, and Martin matched it to the pitches on the synth, scribbling them down.

"STRANGELOVE!" He wrote and shouted at the same time. 

"Hm?" Dave turned around, looking at him.

"Strangelove." Quickly, he turned his fingers to the synth in his lap, playing the notes he had matched to Dave's melody. 

"Strange love, my love." Dave came over, and kissed him on the cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> next i'm doing duran fic i hate myself?


End file.
